I Loved You Lyra
by Youkomon
Summary: One shot. Lyra's husband visits her grave reflecting on how she could never truely love him...


This was a strange idea I came up with while looking at a paragraph from the Amber Spyglass when Lyra says something to Will just before they are separated: "And if we-later on-" she was whispering shakily-"if we meet someone that we like, and if we marry them, then we must be good to them, and not make comparisons all the time and wish we were married to each other instead…"

What if Lyra did marry someone but she could never get Will completely out of her head? How would her husband feel? If you are reading this then you must have read the summary and got a good idea what this is about…

Disclaimer: Phillip Pullman is the man who wrote His Dark Materials whish means he owns the copyright etc. I am merely one of the many people who liked and admired the trilogy and, thus, this short fic is the result. 

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The whispers of the wind darted around the garden, caressing each blade of grass and teasing each gentle flower petal. The leaves of the trees danced and swayed to the music of the breeze and a single blossom petal floated down to clash with graphite grey.

A hand brushed it away coming to rest on the headstone, fingers exploring every crack, every detour, every crevice of the cool stone in a way that showed it was familiar with every mark, all the glitches, as the hand moved over the path it traced every day.

The owner of the hand was old; well into his late sixties. Grief had given his eyes a hooded appearance and wrinkles were abundant on his face. The blue cobalt eyes that had once been so full of quiet joy and contentment were gone forever; piercing sapphires cloaked in sorrow replaced them now.

A silver fox, coat dappled with several shade of glistening grey, tinged with white, curved her slim frame around his legs. Her two eyes, gleaming golden dewdrops in the smoky fur, stared up at him with unreserved concern.

"Are you alright?" she inquired, her voice sounding like the rustle of a thousand autumn leaves sailing to the ground, "You don't usually spend this long looking at **_her_**" 

"I will be fine, Slavakia…"

The hands kept up their gentle motions on the sun-kissed slab of rock, moving as skilfully as the tender hands of a long-lost lover.

"Fifteen years…fifteen years we were married and you never really loved me…no, that's not fair, you did love me in your own way…trouble was you didn't love me in the same way you loved him…oh, I know you tried your hardest not to make comparisons but you couldn't help it. You were always looking for his face in mine, so disappointed when your search drew a blank. You were yearning for him, no matter what I did to ease your pain, no matter what I did to make you happy it was never enough. I could never be who you wanted me to be and we both knew it. But that didn't stop us from trying to pretend none of this was real, that we had a problem…no, we insisted we were happy, displayed to the public all the signs of a couple madly in love.

You were my sun and moon, you cast your light into my life and I would do anything to keep it, anything to chase away the suffocating darkness loneliness brings…

Yes, sounds hopelessly poetic I know, but it's the truth…and I know you loved it when I brought you flowers and did simple little gestures to display my devotion to you. You craved them because you could imagine it was **_him _**giving you these gifts and you wanted more so you could buy more time in your own personal fairyland, pretending he was at your side…you yearned for those paintings I did for you…you were so hungry, so hungry…too hungry…and then I ran out of things to bestow upon you…the pretending had to stop.

The ironic thing is, I can't hate you. How could anyone be capable of hating a wonderful human being like you? You worked so hard to teach people to be kind, realise their full potential, trying to create this 'Dust' you were always going on about. Hell, you even did the same for me, encouraging me to pursue my dream of being an artist. Thanks to your unwavering faith, I fulfilled my ambitions and sold my paintings…maybe that's why I'm incapable of hating you with every fibre of my being. You united me with a part of myself that I didn't know existed.

Oh, I admit that I didn't understand this 'Dust' business, couldn't begin to comprehend what you had been through all those years ago. How could I when you never told me the whole truth? Yes, you told me the majority of your young memories but you left out the bits…important bits that rendered the story incomplete…mostly the parts to do with **_him_**.

I'm glad you achieved what you set out to accomplish…you finally learnt how to read the complex meanings of the alethiometer…I remember your face lighting up, radiating with the inner beauty I adored so much, when you read it properly for the first time in years. I saw a girl of twelve in your place that night…instead of a forty-five year old woman. Funny, that was the only time I ever saw your inner child…she never appeared again…

I also remember how it was when you were angry…you were fire, pure fire, hot, untouchable rage, burning with an untameable passion. When you were like that, you burned my will to cinders and I begged you to forgive me for whatever wrong I had done you. And you did forgive me…always.

Of course when I was angry, I was pretty fiery myself…but you turned into rain and put me out…your cool hands, your cool face, your refreshing voice soothing me in the continuous drone of movement of those fluffy, grey clouds that gather before the rain comes. Then you would laugh at me once my rage had subsided and place butterfly kisses on my nose, gentle raindrops on my skin. And I would become lost in your endearing soul…what chance does fire have against the rain?"

"What chance does the rain have against the sun?" questioned Slavakia.

The man smiled, with no trace of bitterness on his features.

"Yes…Will was your sun just as you were my rain…and I forgive you for loving him just as you forgave me for loving you…"

He got up viewing the gravestone one last time.

"But when the rain puts out fire, there is smoke…smoke that lingers for a long, long time, even after the fire and rain are gone…" his daemon stated sadly, her thoughts on Pantalaimon.

The broken-hearted soul divided into two separate bodies, started to drift towards the uncertain future.

**_'I loved you Lyra…the sun can't evaporate that…'_**


End file.
